moments in time
by rawrchelle
Summary: Soul/Maka. Dull stars and sweet nothings and everything in between.
1. why are you so far away?

**notes:** OMG WTF RAWRCHELLE ISN'T WRITING NARUTO? don't worry; i will definitely return to it. it's my forte. i was actually so uncomfortable writing this, 'cause i wasn't too sure of their characters. i'm used to being familiar with writing the characters, like sakura and sasuke. so tell me if the people are ooc? and this could stand on its own, really—but if you can't tell from the summary, there are thirty prompts. here are just five. tell me what you guys think so far, and i'll write according to the feedback. SO IT WILL BE TEMPORARILY COMPLETE. YEEE.

i wonder how many of my naruto readers also read soul eater? HM.

**dedication:** this one guy, who's kind of to me what soul is to maka. but not really. but he's still special. SO THERE.

**

* * *

epidemic.**

"Valentine's Day has got everyone excited, hasn't it?" Tsubaki mused as she walked with Maka down the hall.

"Yeah." Maka looked around as students—mainly females—clutched their love letters and scurried about. Kid was seen in the classroom earlier, giving perfectly identical letters to Liz and Patty—no doubt with tutorials on push-up bras and how to trim eyebrows perfectly, without any hint of love confessions at all in them. "Has Black Star given you anything?"

"N-No…" Tsubaki smiled shyly at this. "I'm not expecting anything from him, really. He's kind of…"

"Thick," Maka finished for her, laughing. "So are you going to give him anything?"

"I don't think so…He can go without knowing anything." Maka smiled a little at her friend's introvert personality. "It doesn't matter, really. What about Soul?" She looked away at this, thinking about the letter she had written, but didn't plan to deliver.

She shook her head. "Nah. He's not the kind of guy." He was too cool to write love letters. Not that he'd give her one if he did.

"Don't say that." Tsubaki smiled. "You never know."

"I suppose." Locking her hands together behind her back, Maka breathed in deeply. "Well, I'm heading home now. I'm really tired."

"Alright. I'll see you later, Maka!"

She wasn't surprised when the house she shared with Soul was empty. He was often playing basketball with Black Star or Kid—or both, even—after school. After finishing her homework and making herself a small dinner, slipping Soul's share into the fridge, she sat on the couch alone, watching the television.

It was around midnight when he returned, in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Where were you?" she asked, hugging a pillow. "I made you dinner."

He shrugged. "Out. We were playing basketball, and got…carried away."

"Oh. Well, are you hungry?" She stood up and playfully threw the pillow at him. With his hands still in his pockets, he dodged it.

"Nah. We ate already." He wasn't even looking at her when he said this; his eyes lingered on the door of his room, as though he really wanted to go there.

She smiled cheerfully. "Well, okay. I was just staying up to make sure you came home, but now I'm heading to bed." They had school tomorrow; she should've been asleep a long time ago. She made her way to turn off the television.

"Maka—" Soul stopped suddenly when she turned around, hand reaching for the remote on the coffee table. He was looking at the floor, and she gave him a funny look. "The guys and I have been talking tonight, and they said I should give you this." From his pocket, he pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Even though it's not cool at all."

She accepted it slowly. If it was what she thought it was, she was somewhat disappointed; it wasn't even in an envelope. It looked like it was hastily written on a scrap piece of paper.

When she unfolded it, she read it slowly, and read it again and again, even though it was a little silly, because there wasn't much on it.

_Maka,_

_Happy Valentine's Day._

_Soul_

And even though it was simple, she felt that the message went through. It went something along the lines of "thanks for being my partner and dealing with my bullshit all of the time". And maybe hints of something more, but she wasn't going to hope. She contemplated on giving him the page-long letter she wrote to him, but decided against it. It wasn't written for him to read, anyway.

She found a smile on her lips, even though she didn't remember putting it there. "Thanks. I didn't get you anything, though."

"It doesn't matter. I think that dinner would be nice, though."

The smile immediately widened into a grin. "I'll get it right away!"

They sat side by side on the couch with the television on, but neither of them was really watching it. Soul ate the food she had prepared for him, and she listened to the comforting sounds of him chewing and swallowing.

**fall from grace.**

"Totally not cool at all…" Soul laughed thickly as he regarded the slash on his thigh. "Where'd she go?"

"Let her run," Maka said, not even thinking about the witch anymore. "We'll find her again soon. Let's get you back to Shibusen!" His wound was bleeding pretty badly; if it didn't get fixed soon, he might die from blood loss or infection.

"I must look pretty stupid, depending on a girl." He had his arm around her shoulders, resting the majority of his body weight on her as they walked slowly, step by step.

"Shut up—this isn't the time the talk about that." Maka wasn't afraid that Soul would die—lately, she realized that she wasn't afraid of anything anymore. She and Soul had gone through so much together; something like this wasn't going to tear him away from her.

"Do you know how far away Shibusen is? We're not going to make it."

"Fine. I'll take you to a local hospital, then."

This wasn't the first time she had stayed by his side as he slept in a hospital bed. His breaths were even, features looking peaceful. The machines around them were beeping endlessly, the IV stuck in his arm. His hand was warm in hers.

When his eyes cracked open, she immediately pulled her hand away. But as he gestured towards her, she glanced down, and realized that his open palm was facing her.

She took his hand back in hers, their fingers interlacing softly.

**library archives.**

"Hey, Soul," Maka said as she flipped through the ancient books in their library, "what do you think our life would've been like if we were born in a different world?"

"Different world?" he asked, sliding into the seat next to her at the table.

"Yeah." She pushed one of the open books towards him. "Apparently, people used to live like this until natural resources went scarce and we went back to the old way of living. Look at these huge buildings!"

"That's a lot of vehicles."

"I know, hey? Imagine the technology and the convenience. It must be pretty cool."

"I think I like the way we're living now." With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater, he leaned back in his seat, staring idly up at the ceiling.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"I like being a weapon. I like being able to eat souls, and the feeling I get when I swallow them. And if we lived in a different world…" He paused, as if thinking. "Then I wouldn't have known all of these great friends. Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Liz, Patty, Blair—you…" His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes.

Maka pulled the book back, realizing the truth of his words. It didn't matter if she lived in the past or in the future—nothing would be the same without her friends.

Without Soul.

"I think you're right," she said with resolution, shutting the book. "C'mon. Let's go and do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything." She grinned. "Everything."

His grin matched hers. "Sure."

**kiss a frog.**

Liz looked incredulous. "You haven't had your first kiss yet?"

Maka shrugged. "It's not really a goal in my life."

"So what, you're going to live your life with virgin lips?"

"I…suppose? I really don't know how to answer that." It was an awkwardly worded question. And anyway, kisses weren't the most important thing. What Maka was set on was making Soul into a death scythe—she couldn't wait for that day to come. It would be amazing.

Kid speculated Soul, who was sitting in the seat next to her. "Please tell us you've gotten more action than her."

Soul yawned. "What, are you saying you've kissed someone before?"

Kid and Liz immediately shared an awkward moment. "It's…not something we like to think about," Liz said uncomfortably.

"It was an accident."

"Yeah." Liz nodded, all too eager to affirm this. "An accident."

Soul eyed them both. "I see."

"And anyway, don't change the topic!"

He shook his head, shrugging. "Haven't kissed anyone. It's not cool to be popular with the ladies anymore—haven't you heard?"

"I think you've got it wrong." Black Star snickered. "Everyone probably thinks that you're a loser, because no girl wants to get with you." Maka could tell Soul stiffened a little at this; an action so small that only she could catch it. "You'd better find a girlfriend soon!"

"Don't say that when you're single too," Soul snapped, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Heh." The other teenager rubbed his nose smugly. "Tsubaki and I have got something going on." At this, the dark-haired female blushed a deep crimson, finding great interest in her feet.

Soul looked at Kid pointedly. "Don't tell me you've got some 'friends with benefits' thing going on with Liz and Patty."

"As the shinigami's son, I have far too much pride for that," Kid said stiffly. "Liz, Patty—let's go. We have better things to do." And with that, he shoved his chair back and stalked out of the classroom, his two weapons following him.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think there's some technician-weapon love going on," Black Star said, a little too loudly for Maka's taste. She was sure her cheeks darkened a little, but it wasn't too noticeable. "C'mon, Tsubaki. Let's leave them alone so they can actually do something productive." And with that, he dragged his partner out of the classroom, leaving her and Soul alone, sitting beside each other at their table.

"Sometimes, I think I should just get that first kiss thing over with so they'll stop bugging me about it," Maka grumbled, resting her chin on her hands. "It makes me feel a little stupid and left behind."

Soul shrugged. "It doesn't matter what other people think."

"I know, but I kind of I want them to leave me alone." Maka gave him an exasperated look. "Maybe I'll get Dad to kiss my on the cheek and say it was my first…"

"He'll probably faint before he can do that." She laughed at his sarcasm. The smirk was faint on his lips, but it was there. "Uh—this is just a suggestion, but maybe…?" He didn't finish his sentence, but she got the gist of what she meant. Blinking, she wasn't sure of what to say.

"I thought you didn't care what people think," she finally said, rather lamely.

"Well, I don't." Leaning back, he placed his feet on his desk. "But if you're going to get it over with, I might as well. It's not cool to have them tease me about it for so long."

"I…suppose?" An awkward silence fell over them. "So…are we going to…you know?"

"Sure. Whatever." He didn't seem to be moving, however, so she turned in her seat so she faced him. Her gloved hands sat in her lap as clenched fists. It came as a surprise when she realized that she was nervous. She shouldn't be nervous, right? This was Soul. Her closest friend. The one she could talk about and do anything with.

Swallowing, she leaned forward. He turned his head so he faced her and leaned forward a little as well. It almost felt like she had gone numb in the rest of her body; all she could feel was the close proximity of their faces, his breath on her lips, and how her breathing was cut off once their lips pressed together.

Was the kiss over yet? Was she supposed to pull away?

It didn't take a genius to figure out that neither of them knew what they were doing. Maka reminded herself that she should close her eyes, because that was what people did when they kissed on television—and this couldn't be that different, right?

Her eyes closed the moment his lips opened to part hers as well. She could feel Soul leaning in closer to her, and she immediately panicked. Shutting her mouth, she pulled away, watching as her partner fell out of his chair, his hands still in his pockets. Hers were still clenched, her fingers digging into the palm of her hands.

"Not cool," Soul muttered, picking himself off the ground and falling back into his seat. Their eyes locked for a moment, before both of them looked away.

"That was kind of awkward," Maka said, playing with her gloves.

"Yeah."

"Let's never do it again."

"Yeah."

**scythe.**

Maka could feel the surge of victory the moment the soul disappeared through his lips.

They were done. They were _done_.

After years of collecting souls and surviving battles and the dangers at Shibusen, they were finally _done_.

"How does it taste?" she asked Soul, who looked positively ecstatic, despite his signature pose with his slouched back and hands in his pockets. The grin was wide across his face, revealing his oddly sharp teeth.

"Amazing. I can still feel it tingling in my throat."

Beaming, she ran towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His went around her waist, and he held her close, as if there wasn't going to be another moment for this. "We're done," she said disbelievingly, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "We're finally _done_."

"Yeah." She could feel his heart beating erratically in time with hers. "We are." Even moments, seconds, minutes after that, they didn't release their embrace.

The moment was too perfect to break.

"So, what now?" Soul was the first to shatter the silence. She felt his grip loosen around her, but she only held on tighter.

"We report to Shinigami-sama, I suppose," she said, voice considerably softer, now that the initial shock had worn off. She could still feel her hands shaking from the adrenaline. Both of them were dirty from the fight with the witch—but they'd faced Medusa before, and they'd faced the Kishin before—what was there to be afraid of?

Soul sighed. "It's still kind of unbelievable. I don't think it's sunk in yet."

"Me neither." Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away from him. "This means that…you'll be working with Shinigami-sama now, right? With Dad."

"Yeah. And you're free to do whatever you want."

She felt a bitter taste rise from her throat. Now that she thought about it, she had never considered what would happen after they'd collected all of the souls they needed. It had always been such a faraway goal, something that wouldn't happen for a long time—but now it was here. And it was the oddest feeling ever.

It was weird, and a little empty, knowing that she wouldn't be working with Soul anymore.

But what would she do, then? If she wasn't with Soul, if they weren't doing missions together—what would she do?

With slight horror, Maka realized that there wasn't much of a life without Soul.

"Oi, Maka—are you okay?" Soul waved a hand in front of her face, and she snapped out of her reverie. A smile immediately stretched across her lips, but it felt fake. Artificial. And she was sure he saw right through it.

"Fine." Her voice was hoarse, her throat tight. "C'mon. Let's report to Shinigami-sama."

"Wait." Just as she turned to find a window or a mirror, he grabbed her arm. "Let's wait a while first." She wasn't sure why he wanted to wait, but she was more than glad to. He led her to a nearby bench, his hand never leaving her arm once.

They spent the entire night talking about anything and everything, from that one time he walked in on her while she was showering, to what would happen after this. She fell asleep on his shoulder just as the sun began to rise, and she figured—maybe it was okay like this. Just maybe.

Because, really, she and Soul had made it through everything. Who said they wouldn't make it through this?


	2. i can feel your heart beating with mine

**notes:** this time, in soul's point of view. i'll switch from chapter to chapter. :3

**

* * *

a definite "perhaps".**

When Soul returned home, he didn't expect Maka to be there. And even if she was, he didn't expect her to greet him.

For the past while, she'd been acting a little strange. Stumbling over her words, running away, falling silent—they were all characteristics that didn't belong to her, but yet, that was exactly how she was nowadays. He wasn't sure how to react to this.

"Oh, Soul, you're back! I made some cookies—would you like one?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Since when did you make cookies?"

"Well, can't I?" she asked defiantly, frowning. "I worked hard on them, too."

He shrugged. "Sure, I'll have one." It was weird, he found, to have Maka baking. Her dinners were usually small and simple; he did most of the complex cooking around the house. It wasn't…bad, per se, for her to make cookies—just unexpected.

The cookies were also unexpectedly good.

"Whoa," he said, swallowing. "These are actually edible."

"Hey!" She hit him over the head with her oven mitts. "I put a lot of effort into them, you know!"

"Who're they for?"

Turning so her back faced him as she put away her gloves, her voice dropped a little lower. "No one, really…I just wanted to make some cookies…"

"Oh. Well, they're good." He swiped a couple more off of the pan, tossing another one into his mouth. "You should make them more often."

"Really?" Honestly, she was so predictable. Easy to please. But that was just the way she was, he supposed. "I'll make more tomorrow, then!"

One week later, Soul found their apartment always smelling of cookies. Even with Blair at home all the time, they weren't able to finish them all. Maka just continued making more and more. It was beginning to get a little ridiculous.

"They're done!" Maka announced, strolling out of the kitchen with a new batch in her hands. "Would you like to try, Soul?"

He took one, but didn't eat it. "Really, Maka, I think you should stop."

She looked surprised. "Stop?"

"You don't expect to make these cookies forever, do you?" He gestured towards the numerous plates of different cookies; oatmeal, chocolate chip, peanut butter, coffee—they were endless, and frankly, he was getting sick of eating them twenty-four-seven. She brought some with her to class, on lessons, and there was always a large stash at home. "This is getting ridiculous."

At this, her lips formed into the frown that he was so used to seeing. "I was only making them because you said you liked them!" With that, she slammed down the fresh plate of cookies on the coffee table and stormed off into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Soul blinked. What did he do wrong?

-

"You're doing it wrong, Soul!" Black Star declared. "Let the man that will one day surpass God teach you!"

"There's something to be taught?"

"Women are gifts for men," the blue-haired boy declared, "and they must be treated as such. Be _gentle_"—Tsubaki immediately started in surprise when he grabbed her hand and rubbed it against his cheek—"and _kind_."

Soul rolled his eyes. "Maka isn't like that."

"Isn't she?" Black Star's eyes hardened. "In the end, doesn't she just want the person she likes to return her feelings?"

"Eh?" Now he was confused. That was the strangest change of subject. "Weren't we just talking about her temper?"

"Due to her feelings for you, yes," Tsubaki said, smiling in that way that made Soul feel like she knew more than she let on. "Or you haven't noticed yet?" Noticed _what_? That she was mad at him? Because if that was the case, then yes, he noticed.

"No," he said slowly, although he wasn't sure what he was saying _no_ to. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets; it gave him a sense of sturdiness, like being his anchors.

Black Star waved a hand. "He's hopeless. And I thought I was the stupid one!"

He scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"Maka _likes_ you," Black Star said slowly. "Get it? She _likes_ you. Y'know—_like_."

"I _get_ it." Soul's frown deepened as he turned on his heels and stalked away. So what if Maka liked him? It was none of his business. He wasn't obligated to feel the same way. If all girls were this annoying when it came to boys they liked and cookies, he would much rather spend his time with guys instead.

But really? Maka liked him? Who would've known.

When he returned home, Maka was laying on the couch, curled up into a ball, hugging a cushion.

"If you're going to sleep, sleep in your bed," Soul said. "You're going to catch a cold out here."

"Not that you'd care anyway," he heard her mumble, voice barely audible. He sighed wearily; she was being really annoying. And stupid. Did he mention annoying?

"Look." He stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets, making sure his back was slouched so it looked like he was speaking casually. "I don't know what happens when a girl likes me. And I definitely don't know what happens when _you_ like me. And I don't know what happens when—_if_ I like you back." He paused. "Because I might like you back. Maybe."

Slowly, Maka sat up from the couch, staring at him. He felt scrutinized, judged. "Maybe?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

At that moment, her lips stretched into a smile, and he was glad—because that meant she understood what he meant. Because everyone knew that Soul Evans was much too cool to confess to a girl directly.

He swore, he did not—absolutely _did not_—blush when Maka linked arms with him. "Let's go out for dinner tonight! My treat!"

"Heh." He grinned. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lady pay?"

**sanctuary.**

There were things that Soul couldn't quite understand. Like when he transforms into a weapon and falls into Maka's hands that seemed to be molded just to hold him. He felt this sense of satisfaction that, _yes_, when they were together, they were indestructible.

And when their souls resonated and their mighty attack shone brightly, he felt a victory that didn't come from anywhere else—not even beating Black Star and Kid, two on one in basketball. And back when he was lost in his insanity from the Kishin and she reached into his mind, holding the box in which he was hidden. When they danced in that black and red room with the piano, when she lost her mind when fighting Chrona—all of these things triggered incomprehensible feelings that he couldn't understand.

There were times when he was afraid, because it felt like he depended on Maka much more than a weapon should on a technician. More than a friend should on another friend.

He lay in bed, unmoving, as he stared at the slithers of morning light that came in through his curtains.

Sometimes, he was more than afraid. He was terrified. What would happen once he became a death scythe? He wouldn't be with her anymore. Not all the time—not like this.

Living with Maka made things worsen tenfold. It was enough seeing her every day at school and all the time during lessons—but waking up to her, going to bed to her; sharing living space, knowing her living quirks—like how she liked to read before bed, how strawberry ice cream calmed her down, and how she needed the color of her toothbrush to match the color of her toothpaste—and eventually, even if he didn't like her at first, he just got use to her always being there.

So what would happen if one day, she just…disappeared?

Before he knew it, he had grown close to a girl that wasn't cool at all. Before he knew it, he depended on this bookworm, this oddball in their classroom—

When did it happen? When did it start?

A knock sounded at his door. "Hey, Soul? Are you awake? You said you wanted to play basketball, right? We're free today—how about we go now?"

He grinned, but she couldn't see it. "Just let me get ready first."

"If you take too long, I'll leave you behind!"

For now, he thought, he'll let it go. Because it was this moment that mattered—this moment—_every_ moment—that he shared with her.

**melody.**

"Mama used to sing a lullaby to me when I was a baby," Maka had told him once. "Dad said that whenever I threw a fit and wouldn't stop crying, she'd sing it, and I'd immediately calm down."

"Really," he had said, not all that interested.

"I don't remember the words," she had continued, not bothered by his indifference, "but the tune's been stuck in my head ever since."

"That's cool." He had dismissed the thought of it just a moment after.

It was times like those when he couldn't pay attention to her. Times like those when his curiosity caused him to edge a little closer to that small room in his mind that had been closed for the longest time now. He knew the devil was still in there; plotting, lurking, waiting. It was only a matter of time before he was caught again.

As he lay in bed, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling, he wondered what would happen if he drowned in that madness when Maka wasn't around. He frowned.

"Soul?" His door opened by a crack, and his partner's quiet voice pierced through the silence like a knife. "You're still awake, right?"

His eyes wandered towards her figure as she slipped into the room. "Yeah. What's up?"

Her hair was down, her eyes drooping shut. She was in her pajamas—why on earth would she still be up at this time of night? Without saying a word, she shuffled towards his bed and climbed into it. He was a little surprised when she did this, and moved over so she had room to lie beside him on the small piece of furniture.

They lay there, side by side in silence, never touching—except for those awkward moments when her toes brushed his—until he heard her voice again.

She was humming, he realized. An unrecognizable tune to him, but it was probably familiar to her. It was a warm tune; relaxed and calm. Before he knew it, all thoughts and worries about the room with the devil in it disappeared.

He fell asleep to the sound of her voice.

**progress.**

"This is unhealthy," Kid said just as class was dismissed.

"_You're_ unhealthy," Soul shot back under his breath.

"You and Maka aren't making progress at all." The other boy shook his head, seemingly oblivious to Soul's obvious dislike for the subject. "It's understandable that you guys don't want too much PDA—and we all appreciate that, really—but how long have you guys been together for? Six months?"

"Five, actually."

"Exactly. Six months, and no one would be able to tell you two were a couple unless they were told."

"Like I said, we've only been going out for five months."

"Five is an ugly number! It cannot be divided evenly!"

"That's not really my problem…"

Kid dismissed this. "Look, the next time you see her, go like this." And without hesitation, the young shinigami grabbed Soul's hand and laced their fingers together.

Soul felt a chilling horror creep up the base of his spine. "O-Oi! Let go of me!" He pulled desperately at the hand clasped to his, but to no avail. He despaired. What would happen if Maka saw this? He already gave off enough impressions of being gay with Black Star…

"And then look deeply into her eyes," Kid continued enthusiastically, appearing rather inspired, "and say passionately, 'Maka Albarn, I love you!' And then kiss her!" Soul felt the faint urge to vomit when Kid's other hand held his chin firmly. His face was much too close for his liking.

"Like I said, let go, you creep!"

"Soul? Kid?" Both boys looked over at the terrifyingly familiar voice. Maka was standing in front of the table with her hands behind her back, head tilted to the side in curiosity. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing!" Soul yanked his hand out of Kid's and backed away as far as he could, to the other side of the room.

Maka's bottom lip jutted out a little into a pout, the way it normally did when she gave him her _you're weird_ look. "Okay. Shinigami-sama said that he had a special lesson for us. We have to go. I'll see you around, Kid!" Soul left the room with his partner all too eagerly.

He and Maka walked down the hallway in silence. Soul didn't mind; they often had gaps in their conversations, but they were comfortable gaps. Too much talking was tiring—and not to mention, not cool.

"So, how was your day?" Maka asked cheerfully. "I barely saw you at all—I was busy helping Sid-sensei in the library."

He shrugged. "The usual."

"Oh. It was kind of weird being with Sid-sensei all day…he kept on talking about who he used to be." She laughed. "I wasn't sure what to say."

Soul smiled at this, but it turned into a smirk. He seemed to have a problem with smiling properly. "Well, that's the way he is." They fell into a silence once more. He could still feel Kid's hand in his, and his fingers on his chin. A shudder ran up his spine at the thought.

"Hey, uh, Maka…" He looked away, trying to appear indifferent.

"Hm?"

"Let's…hold hands."

"Eh?" She seemed surprised. "Why?"

"W-Well…" Dammit, why did he even listen to Kid? "We've been going out for a while now, and I think we should start…But you don't have to if you don't want to," he added immediately, upon seeing her expression.

The smile on her lips was soft. "No—it's okay." Her hand reached out for his, and a light and giddy feeling bubbled in his stomach as their fingers interlaced.

He felt kind of cool.

(Needless to say, though, once they reached Shinigami-sama's office and Maka's father saw their fingers intertwined, he got pummeled.)

**motionless.**

"Don't move," Maka said suddenly. Soul stopped walking, regarding her with an odd look.

"Why?" They were in the middle of finding a soul; it wasn't the most convenient time to stop.

"Just…don't move. And close your eyes!" It was one of the strangest things she'd ever said to him.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Just do it!"

So he closed his eyes and kept still. He didn't realize what she was doing until he felt her breath fan across his lips—and it was the biggest surprise ever, because, what, Maka wanted to kiss him at a crucial time like this?

Despite that, he kept still, and let her kiss him.

(And he might've kissed back. Just a little.)


	3. i'm so sorry i feel this way

**notes:** school is slowly, but surely killing me. who else is taking ib? the majority of my friends are taking full. i purposely dropped a subject so i wouldn't have to. :3

**

* * *

all your life.**

Maka only remembered a few significant things in her life.

One was her father. Despite being the overprotective, clingy man he was, he was still her father—and she loved him. He had taken care of her ever since she was a child, albeit going out and seeing other women. And she was grateful with that.

The second were the postcards sent from her mother. They always gave her strength and courage—always reminding her that she was still there in spirit, even if not in body.

And the third—the third, without a doubt, was Soul.

And Soul was the person she remembered most. When she grew up and slowly became a woman and her father lost his father role little by little, when her mother hadn't sent a postcard in a while—when things felt a little empty, a little lost, a little dark—Soul was there.

And Maka didn't want to make things sound clichéd and lame, but that was the truth.

"Soul!" Maka caught up with her partner in the crowed hallway. It was his eighteenth birthday today, but no one had said a word; they were setting up a surprise party at their apartment at this very moment. "Hey—you want to go to Death City with me?"

"I was thinking about going home and taking a bath. Why?"

"We're all out of food," she said, smiling sheepishly. "I'll make you a special dinner this week, so come pick out the groceries with me."

He shrugged. "Sure."

They spent an hour in Death City, buying the week's worth of food. It was enough for their friends to set up the party—and with that, they set back to their apartment. Soul didn't appear fazed when everyone jumped out from behind couches and tables, but Maka could tell he was surprised. Surprised and happy.

She had spent a lot of time looking for a gift for him—he _was_ turning eighteen, after all—but she ended up with another ornament to add to the sweatband around his head, and a large toothbrush as a gag gift for his abnormally sharp teeth. She felt stupid when he unwrapped her gift with the usual smirk on his lips. It was even worse when he opened her card and read it. She swallowed, a blush creeping to her cheeks.

_Hey, Soul? Hi. It's, you know, me._

_I know I should write some extravagant card, since you're eighteen and you're an adult now, but I can't really find anything to say. It seems like everything I have to say to you ends up already being said. So I'm sorry this is a stupid card, and that my present is stupid and lame, but really—_

_I don't know. I don't think I say this enough, so I'll say it now._

_Thank you._

_Thanks for always being there for me. Thanks for helping me when I need it. You know I can't express myself well, but you get what I mean, right? Just—thanks._

_Thanks._

_Maka_

When he looked up at her, he grinned.

"You're welcome."

**1000 years ago.**

The day Soul became a death scythe was the day something inside of her broke.

"Maka." His grin was genuine. "You are by far the coolest technician I could've ever had." She watched him, searching for something—anything that'd tell her that he'd miss her too, that he'd think of her every day the way she'd think of him every day. His eyes scanned her briefly. "But you could've had bigger tits."

Okay, screw that. She wouldn't miss him at all. With a fatal Maka Chop to his head, she stalked away, arms crossed.

But as she turned back and watched as he picked himself up off of the ground, rubbing his head and grumbling, she smiled a little. Always the tough one.

She caught his eye, and his grin returned. "If we met one thousand years ago," he told her, "nothing about us would've changed. Maybe we'd be wearing some stupid clothes and we wouldn't have electricity, but"—he paused at this, and she swallowed—"I don't think I would've wanted us any other way."

The faint smile on her lips threatened to widen considerably. Because he was right.

Whether they met one thousand years ago or two hundred years ago or five minutes ago—nothing would've changed, and everything would've been just as amazing. She could've met him hundreds of times over and not know it, in different lives and different times and different places—and it would've still been perfect.

The day Soul became a death scythe was the day something inside of her grew.

**sing.**

Maka knew everything about Soul. Even the things he didn't know she knew.

She knew how he suffered from slight insomnia. The nights he didn't sleep, he sat on the couch and watched the television with the sound muted, so it wouldn't wake her. (It always did, though.) And when he _did_ sleep, he'd sometimes wake up with heavy breaths and a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead—no doubt from a nightmare.

She knew he was afraid of the devil in his mind. She knew he was afraid of the insanity that floated everywhere. She knew he was afraid of himself.

She also knew he sang. Coming from a family of musicians, the blood flowed in him. She'd hear him humming or singing softly to himself when he thought she wasn't around; his voice was a soft tenor with a dull edge to it; enough to lull her into a dreamless sleep.

She could count on one hand how many times she had actually heard him sing. Twice, probably. Thrice, if she was lucky. But it wasn't something that could be forgotten easily. She often wondered what was it that didn't let him trust her. That didn't let her hear his real voice.

"Maka? What are you doing up so late?"

She stared emptily at the television screen, the volume muted. "I couldn't sleep."

"Ah." She heard the fridge open in the kitchen, and she could imagine him drinking milk from the carton as he often did in the middle of the night, despite the number of times she'd told him to pour it into a cup before drinking it, because she wasn't going to touch the milk after that. "Well, I'm going back to bed."

"Wait, Soul. Come over here."

His singing echoed in her ears the way waves rang in a seashell, but fainter, and a lot more broken.

"What?" When she looked at him, he had his hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants, looking at her with his trademark frown on his lips.

Smiling a little, she patted her lap—an invitation for him to sit on it. He immediately scowled with that _are you crazy_ look he often gave her. She frowned now, and pat it again. After a long staring competition, he finally gave in and sat on her lap, although on the very edge, and very cautiously.

"What do you want?" he asked lazily when her arms snaked around his waist and pulled him closer to her. "I'm not your teddy bear."

She pressed her face to the back of his shoulder. "Sing for me, Soul."

His answer was immediate. "No."

She knew that it was probably a big request for him. Singing was something he kept to himself; one of the few things about him that she wasn't familiar with. "If it makes you feel better," she said, voice muffled by his shoulder, "you should sing."

"Who said I was feeling unhappy?" His tone was curt now.

"You're worried about the insanity. The devil." Her hold around him tightened—her way of telling him that she was there for him. "You're so worried you can't even sleep properly." He remained silent. "You can talk to me, Soul. You know that."

His shoulders rose and fell with a small sigh. "I know." _But he didn't want her to worry._ She could hear his unspoken words.

"We're partners, remember? Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

She saw him bow his head a little as he grinned. "Yeah." And after a moment, he began to sing.

Maka laced their fingers together, and smiled softly into his shoulder.

**strings.**

As fate would have it, they met again.

It'd been five years since Soul had become a death scythe, forever bound to Shinigami's orders. It'd been five years since Maka left Shibusen to travel the world like her mother; visit the other branches scattered across the globe and learn about the different teaching methods and technicians and weapons everywhere.

She didn't doubt for a moment—and neither did he, she was sure—that they were going to be separated forever. Because that was impossible. A technician and weapon was bound for life.

Maka was called back due to the fact that through some abnormality, Soul and Shinigami's souls weren't able to resonate. She was supposed to return to attempt resonating with Soul and see if it worked, and help figure out what the problem was if there was no problem with it.

It was hard to fight the painfully wide smile stretched across her lips. "You've grown," she said fondly. "I think you're taller than me now."

"Heh." He grinned proudly. "I've always been taller than you."

"We were the same height!"

"Because I was always slouching."

"You're slouching now," she pointed out.

"And I'm _still_ taller than you. I think you shrunk."

She punched his arm lightly, and after a moment of silence, they burst into a small fit of laughter. She pulled him into a hug, taking her time with withdrawing. "It's nice seeing you again," she told him earnestly.

"Yeah."

And as they made their way to their usual training area; a clearing within the small forest, Maka linked her arm with Soul and the bounce in her walk increased a little.

She could feel the strings of fate continuously pulling them together, and she was sure he could, too.

**unexpected.**

The day they got together was more of an unfortunate accident.

"Hey, Soul, what's your ideal girlfriend?" she had asked as they were making breakfast together.

He didn't even think before answering. "She has to have a big chest, of course. And she has to be beautiful." He paused. "Did I mention she has to have a big chest?" She glared at him as he grinned, knowing that he was just rubbing in her face that she was flat.

"You're always complaining about my lack of chest," she muttered, cracking another egg exasperatedly. "Well, _sorry_ I'm not like Blaire."

"She has to be older too," Soul continued, voice thick with mock longing. "And experienced in bed. Rich."

Maka rolled her eyes and decided to be mature and ignore him. If that was how he wanted to act, then fine. She'd eat this huge omelette by herself somehow; she wasn't sharing it with Soul anymore. She even added smoked salmon in it just for him, even though she didn't like it. He loved it.

It had to eventually get a little frustrating when he didn't receive the hints she sent him. Either he was really oblivious, or he was too cool to care.

"Heh." She avoided his gaze as she placed the large omelette onto a plate. "You're upset."

"Obviously," she said, turning away from him, looking for Blaire to share the breakfast with. "Being your technician, I have to worry about your well-being. What happens when you're deceived by some large-breasted woman who only used you for—well, I don't know—what if she had some sort of scythe fetish?" She crossed her arms.

"You mean used me for my good looks?"

"What good looks?"

"Obviously the good looks that you can't see." She heard Soul sigh. "I'm so unlucky, to be paired with a technician like you. I wish I had someone like Tsubaki."

Angry now, she spun on the soles of her feet to face him, scowling. "Considering how long we've been working together for, I thought you'd get used to it," she snapped. "After all, we've been through so much together, and actually, I…" She stopped suddenly, choking on her words.

Soul must've been in a really sadistic mood, because his teasing didn't stop. "You what?" he taunted.

"I…I actually…" She swallowed. No way she was telling him. Breathing in deeply to calm down, she turned away and decided to go outside to let out some steam.

"Just what I thought," she heard Soul say. "Flat women can't do anything on their own."

She stopped in her tracks, not sure of what to do. Strangle him, stalk out, or…?

Right now, strangling him seemed like a very tempting prospect.

"Or are you just afraid?" she asked quietly. She was met with silence. "Are you just afraid of taking what you want, so instead, you pretend like you don't need anything?" Her hands clenched into fists, because she knew she was right, and she was angry to have fallen for such a stupid person.

"What are you trying to say?" His voice was just as low as hers.

"What I'm saying is…you've liked me for the longest time…" She actually felt like crying. "And you knew I liked you back…and you never did anything about it…!" They had so much potential—they could be _amazing_—and he'd rather stay cool than take a step forward.

His voice was a little defiant. "I can't do anything about it, can I? It's so troublesome."

"Soul…" She took a calm, even breath. "You're so stupid." Making sure not to make eye contact when she turned around to face him again, she stalked towards him, locked her arms around his neck and yanked him towards her so their mouths crashed together.

Yeah. It was an unfortunate accident. Nothing but.


End file.
